


Warriors' Hearts

by Syverne



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apprentice Ceremonies, Book Series: A Vision of Shadows, Book Series: Dawn of the Clans, Book Series: Omen of the Stars, Book Series: Power of Three, Book Series: The Prophecies Begin, Breaking the Warrior Code (Warriors), Canonical Character Death, Dark Forest (Warriors), Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Gay, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Leadership, M/M, Medicine Cats, Multi, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Polyamory, RiverClan (Warriors), RiverClan Graystripe, Short One Shot, Snow, Super Edition: Book 2: Bluestar's Prophecy, ThunderClan (Warriors), WindClan (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syverne/pseuds/Syverne
Summary: A collection of Warrior Cats drabbles that I've written, all about ships! Some were suggestions, others came from my brain. I really like rarepairs, so read this expecting to find a ship you've never heard about before! These are all just for fun, so there's no strict update schedule or serious plot going on.





	1. Snow (GraySlate)

A chill bit at the air on the moor, and Slate shivered. Gray Wing should have been back ages ago, and now she was going after him.

“Gray Wing?” she called, chasing away worries that he had collapsed and was now dying as the snow started to fall. The wind stole away her words and she pressed on, calling again and again, louder and louder.

She finally heard a response, a timid, “Slate?” from within an abandoned badger set. And there he was, tucked just inside the entrance, wheezing heavily.

“Gray Wing!” Slate rushed inside to the grey tom’s side, bending down to press her nose into his fur. He was as cold as death, in desperate need of warmth. Without a second thought, she lay down beside him, pressing him between herself and the dirt wall of the cave.

“Wh-what are you-” Gray Wing started, but she silenced him by pressing the side of her muzzle against his mouth.

“I’m warming you up so you don’t die out here,” a note of worry stung in her words. He couldn’t move, obviously, or else he would have been further inside the den. She was going to have to get him back to camp herself; he would surely perish if she left to fetch help.

“...thank you,” the grey tom murmured, laying his head down on his paws and staring forlornly out into the growing storm.

“I love you, Gray Wing,” Slate replied sincerely. “and I can’t lose you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt ‘grayslate ;), snow??’ sent in by @twigsfall on Instagram.


	2. Midnight Meeting (Mothpool)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mothwing and Leafpool meet on the island.

Leafpool shifted her paws anxiously.

“Mothwing?” she called softly, her amber eyes flitting over the low brush on the island, searching for a familiar golden pelt in the darkness.

“I’m here, Leafpool,” a gentle voice replied, and the brown tabby turned to greet the other she-cat.

Leafpool momentarily forgot how to breathe as Mothwing stepped into the light, the moon painting delicate brushstrokes of silver across the medicine cat’s fur. Her amber eyes glittered like two miniature suns laid in a golden casing of fur, and she moved gracefully over the land towards Leafpool as if she were swimming through the air.

“Leafpool? Are you alright?” Mothwing asked, halting before the other molly. She looked down at Leafpool with genuine concern, and the brown she-cat felt her heart melt.

“I-I’m fine,” Leafpool stammered. “I just… you look beautiful tonight.” She blinked up at Mothwing and let out a purr to try and dispel the awkwardness.

“Thank you, darling, you look nice as well,” she smiled, then used a paw to hook Leafpool’s shoulders and draw her towards her chest. “Come here, Leafpool, one might think that you’re worried we’ll get caught.”

Leafpool let herself relax against Mothwing’s golden fur before replying quietly, “I am worried.”

“Hey,” Mothwing tilted her head down to look at her mate. “Look at me, Leafpool. We’re medicine cats, we’re allowed to meet each other outside of half-moon meetings.”

“I-I know, I just…” Leafpool sighed, and Mothwing tucked a paw around her neck. “I don’t want to have a repeat of the… Crowfeather scandal.”

“You tried to run away with Crowfeather. We don’t need to do that,” Mothwing replied. “We can visit each other as much as we’d like and our leaders can’t do much about it.”

“I… suppose…” she murmured, snuggling closer to Mothwing. “Yes, you’re right. You’re always right. You’re so smart, Mothwing.”

Mothwing laughed, and Leafpool could have sworn she was going to faint right there from the heavenly sound. “I appreciate you saying so.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Leafpool watching the moon creep slowly across the sky. She didn’t want to leave. Here, she could be happy. Here, she had Mothwing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted on Tumblr.  
Inspired by the prompt 'Mothpool the 2 had a midnight meeting planned' sent in by @luludory06 on Instagram.


	3. in which silverstream lives (GraySilver)

Graystripe stirred to Silverstream’s voice in his ear.

“Graystripe!” she whispered. “Graystripe, wake up!”

“I don’t- don’t wanna,” he mumbled, shifting around to turn away from the silver molly.

“Graystripe, come on, it’s Featherpaw and Stormpaw’s naming ceremony today,” Silverstream mewed and shook him gently with a paw.

Amber eyes opened reluctantly to peer up at the she-cat looming over him. “I’ll be out in a moment,” he sighed dramatically, betraying none of his true excitement in his words.

Graystripe shivered when Silverstream bounded away from him and out of the warriors’ den, before bushing out his thick grey pelt and yawning deeply. He got to his paws, stretched out his spine, and lumbered slowly after her, like a lethargic badger.

The sun gleamed on crisp, frosted leaves, touching the bleak RiverClan camp with sparks of colour. It was the very beginning of leaf-bare, and though no snow had shown its face yet, a thin layer of white had settled itself on the camp overnight. It was truly gorgeous, but when the cool wind swept through it made Graystripe long for the sheltering trees of ThunderClan.

Featherpaw and Stormpaw were nowhere to be seen, and neither were their mentors.  _ Out early for a final assessment, _ Graystripe thought. He swelled with pride at the thought of his children finally claiming their warrior names… and glanced over at Silverstream, who was beaming as if the fresh-kill pile had just been stocked to bursting and she had been offered first pick. RiverClan had been hard on their kits, what with their father being originally of ThunderClan, but Graystripe and his kits had worked hard to be accepted as RiverClan cats. Crookedstar was proud of his son-in-law and grandchildren, Silverstream had told him as much. And even if Graystripe missed Fireheart, Bluestar, and the ThunderClan forest, he belonged here. With his family. With RiverClan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt ‘Graystripe and Silverstream but silverstream survives’ sent in by @animal_karnes on Instagram


	4. Tigerclaw loves his boyfriends (WhiteTigerLion)

“Did you have a good patrol, Tigerclaw?” Whitestorm asked, curling his fluffy tail over the dark tabby’s back and escorting him to the shaded side of the clearing, where Lionheart was already waiting. Tigerclaw was scowling.

“We found ShadowClan scent on our side of the border,” Tigerclaw growled, his tail lashing. “They’ve been stealing our prey, I’m sure of it!” Tigerclaw glanced over to the warriors’ den, where Thistleclaw was deep in angry conversation with Tawnyspots and Adderfang.

Whitestorm gently guided Tigerclaw’s gaze away from the senior warriors with his tail. “Have you found any prey bones on ThunderClan territory?” the white warrior mewed gently, laying down next to Lionheart and gesturing for Tigerclaw to sit between them.

“What’s this?” Lionheart commented absently, his green eyes dancing away from the sparrow that was chittering overhead. “Another Clan hunting on our territory again?”

Tigerclaw sat himself down with a humph. “Yes! I don’t know why neither of you is taking me seriously. You’re my mates, you’re supposed to-” Tigerclaw fell silent as Whitestorm twitched his tail across his mouth.

“If there’s no solid evidence that ShadowClan has been hunting our prey, then there’s no reason to get so worked up about it, darling,” Whitestorm mewed, moving his tail away and running it down Tigerclaw’s spine. “Thistleclaw has been filling your head with thistledown. We don’t need to go running into battles every few sunrises - there’s more to a warrior’s life than that.”

Lionheart purred and cuddled into the side of Tigerclaw’s neck. “You should listen to your mate, Tigerclaw,” the golden warrior commented lazily, giving the impression that he was only half-aware of the conversation.

Whitestorm started to squish Tigerclaw in from the other side, only stopping when he saw a smile flit across the broad tabby warrior’s muzzle. Tigerclaw was practically enveloped in white and golden fur, with only his head sticking out around Whitestorm’s thick pelt and Lionheart’s fluffy mane. Whitestorm purred and licked Tigerclaw’s cheek fur.

Tigerclaw seemed significantly less furious than he had been when he’d gone through the gorse tunnel just a few moments earlier. The great tabby warrior tilted his head down and rumbled a purr, his ears laying flat against his head.

“Having fun?” Thistleclaw scowled at the three warriors as he went by, claws threatening to be unsheathed. “You’re the last cat I expected to have bees in his brain like this, Tigerclaw,” Thistleclaw muttered darkly.

“Whitestorm and Lionheart are great warriors, and if you have a problem with that, it’s not your place to say,” Tigerclaw replied, lifting his chin defiantly. Whitestorm snuggled closer to the tabby warrior just to spite Thistleclaw, and Lionheart did the same. “Where in the warrior code does it say that a tom can’t take another tom as a mate, nor have more than one mate?”

“Well-said,” Lionheart murmured as Thistleclaw turned away, muttering to himself. “Thistleclaw’s been more sour than usual ever since Snowfur died - I’m sorry, Whitestorm.” Lionheart exchanged a sorrowful nod with the white warrior. Tigerclaw didn’t comment but licked Whitestorm’s ears affectionately.

“Thistleclaw stopped being my father a long time ago,” Whitestorm sighed, his shoulders falling dejectedly. He curled his tail over Tigerclaw’s back, letting the tip rest along Lionheart’s side.

“I’m sorry that he always treated me as his son instead of you,” Tigerclaw apologized gently. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not your fault,” Whitestorm replied. “Besides, we have each other, and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” Whitestorm pressed his nose underneath Tigerclaw’s chin and rumbled a purr.

“Yes,” Tigerclaw admitted with a blink, relishing in the warm touch of his mates’ fur against his flanks. “It is.”


	5. By the Riverside (MistyMoth)

Mistystar scooped a trout from the river, knocking it onto the bank before leaning over and killing it with a swift bite to the neck. Mothwing purred, stepping back as water splashed over her paws. Mistystar picked up the trout in her jaws and carried it away from the stones on the riverbank, quickly digging a hole and burying it in the soft earth.

“We can pick that up on our way back,” Mistystar mewed as Mothwing followed her, blue-grey and golden fur pressing together affectionately. Mothwing twined her tail around Mistystar’s, taking advantage of the few moments they had together.

“Of course, it’s not strange for a leader and a medicine cat to be out together,” Mothwing commented, breaking their touch but glancing back at Mistystar with teasing in her wide amber eyes. “Perhaps we’re sharing important words that our Clanmates don’t need to know about.”

Mistystar bounded after Mothwing into the trees, back towards the heart of RiverClan territory. They had been hunting in the river next to the Horseplace, where few patrols dared venture. “There’s a lot our Clanmates don’t need to know about,” Mistystar replied evenly, bowling into the medicine cat’s side with a happy purr. “It’s been so long since we’ve been alone together like this, Mothwing!” the blue-grey she-cat exclaimed, her fluffy tail swishing across the grass.

“It was easier when you were just a warrior, Misty _ star, _ ” Mothwing admitted, padding back towards the riverbank with a forlorn edge to her mew. “At least we have a good excuse if we get caught, seeing as I’m your medicine cat.”

“I can’t help being busy!” Mistystar protested, walking down to stand beside the golden she-cat. The gentle waves of the river lapped at her paws and she nudged Mothwing’s shoulder. “We both have duties, Mothwing, and if we start ignoring them, other cats will start to get suspicious.”

Mothwing sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, you’re right. We should be enjoying this time we have together, not complaining about it,” the golden medicine cat reached down into the water, feeling the smooth pebbles beneath her paw.

“Would you like to go for a swim with me?” Mistystar stepped down into the water, looking back up at Mothwing, the invitation light in her gaze. “We still have some time until anybody will think to look for us.”

“Oh, Mistystar, I’d love to,” Mothwing mewed.


	6. harespring hold me im scared (AntHare)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate version of the canon where Harespring doesn't (yet) train in the Dark Forest! I haven't decided if he stays out of it altogether or goes in order to keep an eye on Antpelt.

“Antpelt?” Harespring slipped out of camp after the light brown tom-cat, his whiskers twitching. He could sense the warrior’s unease. “Antpelt, what’s wrong?”

Antpelt’s chest was heaving when he stopped. There were fresh cuts along his back, spotting his pelt with blood. Harespring looked at him forlornly.

“Nothing, Harespring,” Antpelt muttered. “Go back to sleep.”

Harespring padded up beside him and leaned over, lapping at Antpelt’s cuts with his tongue. “Thorn in your nest?” he asked gently as Antpelt winced.

“Something like that,” Antpelt replied vaguely.

“You can tell me anything, you know,” Harespring assured him. “I love you.”

“I know,” Antpelt murmured. “I’ve just… I’ve been having dreams, Harespring. Dreams of a terrible, haunted place and when I wake up the injuries are real. I don’t want to go back but if I refuse to fight they’ll kill me. I’m scared, Harespring…” Antpelt fell against Harespring’s shoulder, pressing his muzzle into Harespring’s neck.

Harespring licked Antpelt’s black ear. “How about we talk to Kestrelflight?” Harespring suggested quietly. “Maybe he could give you something to help.”

“No!” Antpelt flinched. “The last thing I want is StarClan finding out about what I’m doing. What a lot of cats are doing. I don’t- what if they decide I can’t go to StarClan after this?”

“Antpelt, listen to me-” Harespring started.

“Harespring, listen to  _ me. _ I don’t want to talk about this. At least not now, in the middle of the night.” Antpelt sighed. “Would you share my nest tonight? It might… it might help.”

“Is this just an elaborate plot to cuddle with me?” Harespring joked, then instantly regretted it. Antpelt seemed too worked up to find any humour in the situation.

“Oh, shush,” Antpelt muttered, flicking Harespring’s ear with his tail. “Wake me up if I start to thrash, please.”

“Anything for you,” Harespring murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I invented this rarepair the other day and fell in love with it. All Antpelt needed was a nice, supportive boyfriend to not turn out the way he did in canon. I want more Antpelt content please. Antpelt novella when? I love this boyo.


	7. untitled fallenlion drabble (FallenLion)

“She’s not here, Lionblaze.” The voice of the spirit-cat was soft and sympathetic as he stepped out from behind a large boulder.

Lionblaze’s ears drooped as he looked down at his paws. “I… I know,” Lionblaze mewed forlornly. “I haven’t met Heathertail here in many seasons.”

“But you still come back every quarter moon, except for when the moon is full.” Fallen Leaves blinked at him, his eyes full of stars. “Why?”

“You haven’t spoken to me since I was an apprentice, but tonight you’re talkative,” Lionblaze countered. “Why?” He fluffed up his ginger pelt.

Fallen Leaves didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I asked first, Lionblaze.” Gracefully, the spirit-cat padded across the stones to where Lionblaze was standing.

Lionblaze gulped. “I want to see you!” he blurted. “Jayfeather walks in StarClan all the time and Hollyleaf has Cinderheart and Willowshine. I don’t have any friends to myself!” Lionblaze slumped, realizing how pathetic and clingy he sounded.

“You… want to be friends… with  _ me? _ ” Fallen Leaves seemed confused. “Lionblaze… I’m not- I don’t-” Fallen Leaves glanced at his translucent fur. “I’m  _ dead, _ ” he pointed out bluntly.

“I know that,” Lionblaze snapped. “But you’re just… you’re just… you’re just so  _ different. _ ” The ginger tabby struggled to find the right words. “Fallen Leaves… ever since I first met you… I’ve wanted to learn more about you.”

Fallen Leaves paused. “I always assumed…” he trailed off. “What about Heathertail?” The ginger-and-white tom glanced towards the tunnel that branched off underneath the moor.

“Heathertail abandoned me,” Lionblaze mewed spitefully. “You’ve been watching me since I first came here. You saved my life when the tunnels flooded, through Jayfeather.”

“And Cinderheart?” Fallen Leaves prompted. Lionblaze wondered how he knew about his and Cinderheart’s relationship. Did the tunnels really stretch that far into ThunderClan’s territory?

“Cinderheart is great and all, but…” Lionblaze felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m not good with she-cats. I don’t think they’re for me. Cinderheart would be better off with another tom.”

“I was never good with she-cats either,” Fallen Leaves admitted. “My mother told me that I would be able to find a mate when I was older and a sharpclaw-”

“-but you never became a sharpclaw,” Lionblaze finished sadly. “I’m sorry, Fallen Leaves. It must be hard for you, living alone down here.”

“It’s more bearable when you’re with me, Lionblaze,” the ginger-and-white tom commented softly, his mew so quiet that Lionblaze almost didn’t catch his words. “It’s selfish of me, I know, but I wish you could stay here with me.”

“Why don’t you come up to the surface?” Lionblaze coaxed hopefully. “You wouldn’t be a drain on ThunderClan resources, for obvious reasons, and I’m sure Firestar would let you hang out around our camp. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”

Fallen Leaves’ tail-tip twitched, the only hint of emotion in his frame. “I’ll consider it, Lionblaze,” he replied curtly. Lionblaze knew it must be a tough subject for the spirit-cat. “It’s been a long time since the sun has warmed my pelt.”

“Please do think about joining ThunderClan,” Lionblaze said. “For me?” he added as an afterthought.

Fallen Leaves hummed. “Okay.” He paused. “Would you like to see some more of my home, Lionblaze?”

“I’d love to,” Lionblaze answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm yet another rarepair i really enjoy!!


	8. choo choo here comes the angst train (TomSky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is entirely a vent-y piece written to cope with some things that are going down and I'm struggling to deal with. so if this feels like it came out of the left field and is really weird, that's why.

The earth on the grave was still fresh when he returned the next morning, the morning light of the sun catching his eye between the trees. The others hadn’t even thought about burying Tom, too caught up in bringing his injured daughter, Sparrow Fur, back to camp. After chasing off Tom’s murderer, the treacherous One Eye, and delivering the message of Sparrow Fur’s peril to the cats on the moor, Clear Sky had remained by himself to bury the former kittypet. Dirt still caked Clear Sky’s white paws and his muscles ached from digging. But it had been worth it. Tom had proven himself to be part of the group, and therefore deserving of a proper burial.

Clear Sky’s jaws were closed around the stem of a burnt orange flower, the closest he could find to the colour of Tom’s fur. He laid the flower on the end of the grave where he’d laid Tom’s head, then sat back and observed the grave mournfully. It was his fault that Tom had been killed. He should have stopped the fight between One Eye and Sparrow Fur earlier. He shouldn’t have trusted One Eye so much. He should have helped Tom fight off One Eye, and perhaps they could have killed him together. Instead, Tom was lying beneath the earth, and One Eye walked free.

“I’m sorry,” Clear Sky murmured, barely audible over the whistle of the wind through the trees. “If you’re there…” Clear Sky remembered the spirit-cats - those who had died returning as silver echoes to pass on messages to the living cats. Would Tom be among them next full moon? “...I’m sorry. I should have saved you.”

He fumbled his words, hurrying along, unplanned. “I was a fool, Tom,” the white tom whispered, “and now both you and Sparrow Fur have paid the price. She’s doing well, by the way. Your daughter is strong.” The last time Clear Sky had seen her, she had been awake and in much better condition. “I should have stopped One Eye! I thought I was doing the right thing, and now you’re  _ dead!” _

Clear Sky collapsed forward, laying down next to Tom’s grave with his paws outstretched. Bright Stream, Storm, Rainswept Flower, Tom… how many more cats would he lose? Was he cursed to care and then have those he cared about torn away? And all by his paws? He should have insisted that Bright Stream stay behind, he should have been less protective of Storm, he shouldn’t have let his anger get the better of him during the battle, he  _ should have stopped One Eye. _ His brothers were both struggling - Gray Wing with his breathing, Jagged Peak with his twisted leg - and both injuries were Clear Sky’s fault. Gray Wing had plunged into the forest while it was on fire to save Clear Sky. Jagged Peak had fallen out of a tree under Clear Sky’s supervision. Death and injury followed Clear Sky wherever he went.

The white tom felt tears drip down his cheeks, glistening silver as they pooled and fell onto the earth. Clear Sky had seen cats mourn before - he had seen cats  _ weep _ before. It was always a scene, a display of caterwauling and vicious sobs that made Clear Sky frown in disdain and turn away. This was true mourning - silent and solitary. There was no need to be loud. There was nobody around to hear him. This was how Clear Sky had always mourned.

He hadn’t been close to Tom, not even remotely. There had been a spark, a single ember, of something that might have grown had they had more time. Clear Sky and Tom had understood each other - failed fathers, standing alone against the world. And now Clear Sky had let him slip through his paws, snatched away in a fleeting moment that played over and over in his mind. Clear Sky’s stomach twinged. There had been blood, so much blood…

“Your campmates will be wondering where you’ve gone, Clear Sky.” The slow drawl was shockingly familiar. Clear Sky leapt to his paws, jaw dropped open. He wasn’t alive again, he couldn’t be, and Clear Sky could see right through him. But he was there, and that’s what mattered.

“Tom…?” Clear Sky murmured, blue eyes wide. He wanted to ask if the chestnut tom was a spirit-cat, but he choked on the words and sprinted forward. Tom’s lips curled up into a smile, and Clear Sky made a broken, keening sound.

“What are you  _ doing?” _ Tom demanded, sharper than Clear Sky expected.

The white tom backed up, brow furrowing. “W-what?” he stammered.

“Get hold of yourself, Clear Sky! I’ve been listening to everything. Where’s the strong, wise leader whose camp I lived in?  _ This, _ ” Tom looked Clear Sky up and down, “is not you. You look like-” Tom faltered.

“I look like who?” Clear Sky asked, voice raspy.

“Your  _ brother, _ after Turtle Tail died,” Tom mewed bluntly. “I thought you weren’t a sentimental cat, Clear Sky. I didn’t expect anybody to miss me, much less  _ you.” _ Tom curled his tail and sat down on the grass. Clear Sky hurried to join him, wanting to touch Tom but knowing that he couldn’t.

Looking at Tom again clawed new pain across Clear Sky’s heart - it was almost worse than if Tom had never appeared. But Clear Sky wouldn’t drive Tom away. “Of course, I miss you,” Clear Sky whispered. “I thought we could… I thought we might be… I thought you…” He trailed off, realizing how pitiful and desperate he sounded.

Tom barked a laugh. “You know how terrible of a mate I am, Clear Sky. Your brother and son nearly tore my fur off for it. My mate is  _ dead _ because of me.” Tom eyed Clear Sky. “But then again, so’s yours.”

“Two mates,” Clear Sky croaked. “There was another before Storm. Her death was my fault as well. She was carried away by an eagle. Two mates, and only one surviving kit, who believes me to be a monster.”

Tom sighed. “Oh, Clear Sky. Nobody really understands you, do they?” Tom cooed, with a flick of his ears.

“You do,” Clear Sky mewed.

“But I’m dead,” Tom reminded him, “and you won’t see me again after this.”

“You can’t come back?” Clear Sky murmured. He knew that Tom couldn’t. Tom had to move on.  _ Clear Sky _ had to move on. He’d moved on before. He didn’t want to do it again.

Tom shook his head. “I can stay for now, but once I leave, it’s done,” he said.

“Then stay,” the white tom pleaded. “Stay for as long as you can. Don’t leave me alone, please.” Clear Sky’s blue eyes glistened with the promise of new tears.

“As my leader commands.” Tom ducked his head, tone playful. Clear Sky wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but instead, he just sighed wistfully. “I’ll stay, Clear Sky.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, reading dotc: oh i wonder who buried tom  
my brain: clear sky. also they were gay for no reason.  
me: makes sense. time to write that, I guess.


End file.
